


A Crash Course for the Ravers

by jld_az



Series: Just Another Future Song [4]
Category: Chronicles of Amber - Roger Zelazny
Genre: (So much banter), (because it's the 70's), (but also they're kinda superhuman?), (in a roundabout way), Anal Fingering, Banter, Blow Jobs, Canon Parallel w/ Copious Artistic License, Crossdressing, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kink Negotiation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23586898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jld_az/pseuds/jld_az
Summary: This is self-indulgent porn. That's it. That's the summary.Title from 'Drive-in Saturday' by David Bowie
Relationships: Martin / Ariaunna (OFC)
Series: Just Another Future Song [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696642
Kudos: 4





	A Crash Course for the Ravers

**Author's Note:**

> Still not required reading for my “And We Are Merely Players” series, but what's fanfic without the occasional PWP?
> 
> Setting: Port Laskill, Texorami  
> Timestamp: June 1981 (in Keene)

_“fuck baby you’re just so goddamn pretty”_

-and she had him pressed forward over the back of a sofa, his feet braced wide, a fist in the damp curls of his hair. She hissed the words into his spine while her free hand slid up his thigh, possessive; under the hem of his leather skirt until the material slipped up to his hips and she could grab a handful of satin-covered-

Her head tilted down, and she let out a guttural moan. They were so _green_ against his flushed skin.

“Jesus, you went all out,” she rasped, caressing the right cheek, palming it, curling her fingers in until he relaxed into it, and his head went limp in her grasp.

“Aww, baby. Were you anxious?” She loosened her grip on his ass, slid the hand across his hip to wrap around his cock instead, and he was so hard behind that thin layer, so warm. “Did you think I wouldn’t find it hot as hell?”

“ogod” he exhaled, and she watched him continue to mouth the phrase in the mirror across the room as she stroked him, torturously slow. Lipstick smeared from kissing, gold eyeshadow smudged at the edges, eyeliner and mascara streaked from exertion…

…and she’d always suspected he would be gorgeous, done up like this. His eyes were made to wear kohl; lips for rouge. But she’d no idea how _intense_ the feeling would be until he was strutting across the loft dressed like Debbie goddamn Harry six hours ago.

Now she had him riding the edge of orgasm, and it wasn’t like she was thinking of him as a woman (because he Definitely Was Not god he was twitching almost violently in her grip he was so close), but she’d _also_ been sporting a rockstar alter-ego all night, and was still feeling a bit full of Joe Strummer swagger.

“Wanna _fuck_ you, baby,” she crooned, grinding against his ass in a faux thrust, teeth tugging at the back of his shirt. “Wanna take you _apart._ Make you feel _so good.”_

He made a sound - high, wilting - in the back of his throat, and throbbed in her hand, the material under her thumb dampening as she swiped it over the head and now wasn’t _that_ interesting. Her actions slowed to a halt. She felt him consciously resist the urge to push up into her fist.

“Do we need to talk about this?” she asked.

He met her heated gaze via the mirror, and gave a small shrug. She eased the hold on his hair; ran her fingers through the locks, kneaded his sweat-damp scalp.

“I mean, I’m not necessarily _opposed_ ,” Martin said. “But it’s also something I’ve not had much interest or experience in, so…”

She gave him a reassuring smile, a cue that she was willing to let the subject drop, and ran her blunted nails down his nape. “Wanna fuck me instead?”

“Not ‘instead’,” he responded, without hesitation. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, lifted her hand from his cock and kissed its palm before standing upright, and moving her around next to him.

And he looked just a _bit_ ridiculous - with his shirt twisted up and his fake tits askew, skirt rucked over his hips and his erection just hovering there behind that thin strip of green - but god _damn_ he was still so _pretty_ all messed up.

“Ok, here’s the deal.” He gathered her hair and draped it over one shoulder, tone casual. “I know what you’re offering, and I’m trusting you to acknowledge my limits when we find them. Savvy?”

And honestly, how could she have expected him to react any differently? He'd always been his most direct self when they were fucking around.

“Ok,” she nodded.

He smiled at her, and slid a hand behind her neck. “Then I'm going to take care of a few things,” he said, easing her in for a quick kiss, then stepping backward toward the bath, “and you can decide where you want to do this.”

* * *

In the end, she took him to bed. Stripped him down (because he’d showered, then posed in the doorway in the green satin panties while she clearly appreciated the view) before laying him out on the mattress and making an A+ effort to re-muss his re-applied lipstick until-

“I’ll be gentle,” she mumbled against his lips.

“I know,” he replied, running his fingers into her hair when she began a slow journey down the front of him, licking / nipping / caressing as she worked her way between his legs, eventually settling with her shoulder wedged under one of his knees, and the other pressed into his opposite thigh.

She paused then to check in, and he met her gaze; reached down to brush a lock of hair from her forehead, then tucked the arm behind his head and watched. She gave him the tiniest wink.

And she was good at so many things - amazing, really, who was he kidding - but every time she wrapped her mouth around him he whited out a little, and renewed his declaration that _this_ was somewhere she ex _celled hot holy fuck_.

He could never watch for long.

She’d done a truly stellar job of working him up already, and while he’d left well enough alone in the shower, Martin felt himself coiling for release pretty quickly in spite of her lingering pace; was gearing up to warn her when she shifted slightly and eased off just enough to-

_“ohjesusfuck sweetheart”_

-and it wasn’t an invasion so much as a casual entry, slick and cool, and she did something with her tongue at the same time that distracted from it but also made him think he’d been missing out and it was almost surreal when he realized the litany of-

“ _moreohfuckpleasepleasemore”_

-was coming from _him_ and she was humming around him reverently; sliding a second finger in alongside the first, then curling them slightly and-

_“ofuck”_

-it surged out of him without warning. Drew him up tight and then snapped, and she coaxed him through it in hot liquid waves that Just Kept Going until he nearly howled from the overwhelming intensity. Then she carefully withdrew her fingers; gave him a last slow lick as she let him slip from her mouth, and sat back on her haunches, running her hands down his thighs.

She eyed him curiously, and waited.

But her lips were glossy, and red, and plump from friction, and he desperately wanted to taste them. So he propped up on one elbow and hauled her in for a lingering, open-mouthed kiss.

“So .. worth exploring?” she asked, first chance she could.

“Absolutely,” he replied, easing her over onto her side, facing him. “Thank you.”

She smirked, like he’d stumbled across an inside joke.

“Well, then,” she said, “happy birthday to _me_.”

Martin was confused a moment, then rolled his eyes and said, “Oh god _dammit_!”

And she laughed, and fell onto her back, and pulled him toward her.

\- - POSTSCRIPT - -

_“Why are you calling the barn phone?” she asked after the fourth ring._

_His voice was tinny through the receiver. “How much longer do you think you’ll be?”_

_She glanced at her wristwatch, then, “I don’t know, an hour maybe? I’m-”_

_“There’s a Drag Ball,” he interrupted. “Interested?”_

_And yes. Yes she was. Because it was Midsommer Night, and she had yet to turn the tables on that whole ‘I turned thirty yesterday’ thing (the shit). She hid a smirk behind her fist, and averted her face from the nearby illusion of her other caller. _

_“I’ll be up in ten.”_

_“Or I’ll be down in fifteen.” Martin hung up. Aunna looked at Tristan._

_“Anyway,” her brother resumed, “I won’t keep you. Happy birthday and all that-”_

_“No, no,” she interjected, lowering the receiver. “What were you saying about Garnath?”_

_“-and remember,” he continued as though she were not speaking. He held up two fingers, slightly curled inward. “Size of a walnut, and do not spare the lube.”_

_She schooled her expression into the flattest, most unimpressed stare she could conjure. Tristan just shrugged._

_“He’ll thank you.”_

_And she really_ _wanted to say ‘He already does’, but right now her smartass younger brother didn't deserve the confirmation._

_So she flipped him a two-fingered salute instead as she hung up the phone._

_He laughed as he ended the contact._

**Author's Note:**

> Aunna & Martin's story continues in the 'Just Another Future Song' series with 'As Though Nothing Could Fall'.
> 
> Kudos are love :) Comments are moderated (for spam, not content), but always welcome. :)


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